Crimson Kiss
by raileht
Summary: *finished
1. Chapter One

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>SpoilersTimeline:** nothing specific.

_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises. Blackout is still the main priority in my list of works in progress.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**ONE**

It doesn't feel real.

Nothing feels real.

But it is.

And it was a nightmare.

-o0o-

"_Where are you?"_

"_I'm home, where do you think?"_

"_I thought…never mind."_

_Her dry laughter slipped smoothly through the line, "You thought I would still be at work. Thank you. That says so much about your faith in my word."_

"_I have faith in your word," he answered evenly though his smile could easily be heard in his voice, "It's just that I also know that sometimes things get in the way and…you know."_

"_Oh, come on," she said and he could actually see her roll her eyes in his mind, "I already apologized for canceling before. I promised I won't tonight and I haven't—and, as said, won't."_

"_Just checking," he chuckled. "I'm on my way."_

"_Someone's a little eager."_

"_A little eager? Of course not," he grinned, "Try _a lot_."_

_She laughed, "Okay that earns back those points you lost for actually thinking I'd cancel…"_

"_I lost points?" he asked, laughing. "You're scoring me?"_

"_Sure," she said simply, "How else am I supposed to know whether I should keep you or not?"_

"_Okay, I see the point," he grinned, "How am I doing so far?"_

"_Hm," she hummed, "Hard to tell…"_

"_Uh-oh," he played along, "Should I be worried?"_

"_I don't know," she said playfully, "I haven't decided yet."_

"_Fine, take your time deciding, just make sure you don't leave me hanging tonight," he chuckled._

"_Keep thinking I will and I just might."_

"_Oh, come on, don't be like that," he chuckled then let his face morph into a smile even though she couldn't see him. "I've been thinking about you all day."_

_Warm laughter filtered through the line, "I bet."_

"_Yeah," he grinned, "I can't wait to see you."_

_"Hm," she hummed again, "I would say the same, but I don't want your head to swell…"_

"_It won't," he grinned, "What else can I do to earn more points?"_

"_Get here on time and we'll start from there, cowboy."_

-o0o-

A man burst through the doors of the hospital, but he barely noticed until he's standing right in front of him, pale and out of breath, eyes wide and looking more than a little shell shocked. He doesn't know how he looks, but something told him he shouldn't have been the first thing the other man should've seen.

But it's too late, he's been seen.

In fact, it's too late for a lot of things that night.

-o0o-

_The melodious tinkling of the doorbell echoed throughout the house and for a moment, he stood there, grinning to himself as he checked his watch once again, just to make sure. The hand indicating the seconds ticked just passed five and that made him grin even wider._ _He wasn't late and he was, in fact, early._

_And he thought that should earn him a few more points._

_The next time he checks his watch, the same hand just past the number five again and this time, the grin faded a little. She'd wanted a proper date that night, complete with him picking her up and going to the door instead of waiting in the car. By now, she should be ready—she'd given herself enough time after all—so where was she?_

_He rang the doorbell again._

_The tinkling came, but the door stayed closed._

-o0o-

"Is she…?"

He looks down at his hands and for a moment, he feels his stomach churn. He hadn't fully realized just how he would appear, so to actually see the state of his hands…

The bile rose to his throat and he felt himself beginning to feel the early signs of choking.

Dark red, almost brown and he's seen enough in his line of work to know what dried blood looks like. He's never had a problem with them, but tonight, it's enough to make his head swim and his stomach lurch in the most sickening ways.

It's hers, all of it, the blood.

_Her._

On _him_, on _his _skin was _her _blood, her _life_.

Dry, dark and in the most nauseating combination of stale brown and red and they stand out as he holds them just a few feet above the glaring white floors of the hallway. They're dark, but they're even darker as they caked along the lines and creases of his palms and they're dark enough to appear almost like they've turned black under the bright lights.

Each wrinkle, each fold and each line of his hands had been traced by lines so fine, they might as well have been painted on by sable brushes, beginning with the splash of crimson, drying into brown then the black.

He closed his eyes and tried to will them away, but of course, they won't leave. It's real, all of it, and he was really there, stuck in a nightmare he couldn't wake from and probably won't wake from for a long time.

Maybe not ever.

"Talk to me."

His words are spoken roughly and it's enough to remind him there was still someone standing in front of him, waiting for an answer he only seemed to want to get from him. He looked up at the younger man, unable to full comprehend what he could say to make sense of what even he couldn't understand.

"Is she…is she gone?"

He swallowed, though not easily as his throat was so dry. He can't remember the last time he had anything to drink, but the mere thought of anything liquid didn't appeal all that much to him at the moment.

What can he say? His mind refused to aid him properly.

There wasn't much to say, not right now and he couldn't make himself say anything except the most honest words he could come up with. His mind, along with most of his body, felt as if it had shut down.

"I don't know."

The other man nodded, glancing at the set of double doors they both know they won't be able to go through unless they both magically manage to acquire a degree in medicine in two minutes to see for themselves exactly what was happening beyond those doors. He's younger, but as he runs his hand down his face roughly, he appears as if he's aged since the last time he'd seen him which was just a week ago.

For once, the expression _aged overnight_ almost makes sense to him now.

Not that it matters.

The frustration and confusion is clear on his face, the other man, and he nods, as if he was in conversation with someone other than this crumpled being on the chair that was him.

"God…what-what the hell happened?"

He looks down on his hands and his stomach lurches again, harder this time and he actually chokes now, just in time to catch the words as they leave him. It's enough to make his voice crack as he manages to utter another honest answer.

"I…I don't know."

-o0o-

_Music spilled into the empty hall as he took the final steps that led him to the second floor of the elegantly designed brownstone. He smiled to himself when he recognized the familiar sounds of Sinatra, singing a song that always made him think of her. He promised her a dance that night, but not really when and a thought struck him that made him smile just a little bit more. _

_With that song playing, it felt like the right moment and he could dance with her right then._

_He didn't need to see her to know that, as Ol' Blue Eyes sang, he would love the way she would look that night. It wasn't much of a choice anyway because loving her and the way she looked would always be one of the most effortless things he'd ever done in his life. She made it too easy and too impossible to do anything else otherwise._

_Stepping closer to the main bedroom, the music became louder, clearer as it filtered through the small crack between the double doors and he could see that the lights were on, brighter than the dimmed lights of the hall he had been in._

_He couldn't help but find it cute, imagining her getting ready while playing Sinatra in the background, maybe singing along with him. She had a lovely voice, much as she tried to hide it, which was a damned shame and he hadn't been able to help himself and told her so. She laughed him off and accused him of being a brown noser._

_Contemplating whether he should knock or announce his presence, he ended up deciding on doing both, knocking gently three times and called her name. Ever the gentleman._

_He hadn't gotten an answer and the music kept playing, the strains of the band climbing into the joyous crescendo perfect for lovers. He assumed he hadn't been heard so he decided to enter anyway. He would probably lose points, but who cared? He wanted to see her already and there was still the possibility she was playing with him by pretending not to hear._

_Pushing the doors open, the music came at him, louder, clearer and Frank's singing about laughter and a wrinkling of a nose—the part that especially reminded him of her—and he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he took in the sight of a beautiful red dress laid out on the bed. On the floor, right under it, a pair of black high heels sat waiting as well and in the air hung the alluring smell of her perfume._

_In that moment, his mind expressed the typical male's frustration with women and the seemingly eternal lack of time whenever it came to preparing for a date. She didn't usually make him wait, but he hadn't really put this behavior past her because, as he had discovered, even she could be such a girl sometimes._

_Spotting the bathroom door open, he shook his head when he spotted the lights were on there as well. Of course, she would still be in there, he had thought wryly._

_Passing the bed with the red dress, he headed towards the door, intent on letting her know her date had arrived on time, as she had requested._

-o0o-

He had chosen to wear something dark that night, but even he could feel the crispness that had settled on his shirt and he knew it wasn't the material itself. He'd gotten blood on his clothes as well, seeping into his shirt and his pants, drying up the way it did on his skin, sticking to his flesh in the most dreadful manner.

The crimson couldn't fight the deep dark blue of his shirt, but it made the material stiff and dry, almost scratching against his skin whenever he made the slightest movement.

A part of him told him to change, wash up even, but he couldn't really think of anything at the moment, not when his mind couldn't even seem to fully grasp what was happening and what had happened.

He couldn't move, not really, so he sat there, ready to curl within himself, but unable to while the younger man still stood in front of him, towering over him and dressed in his usual impeccable suit. He was wearing something dark too, but that was just his suit. His button-down shirt underneath was a very light shade of lavender and somehow, he couldn't help the melancholic thought that if _he _had been the one to be there, he would look a more gruesome sight that he did at the moment.

This thought was enough to make him wonder if he was losing his mind, thinking about clothes and what it could look like when the reality of the situation warranted more attention than anything else. He was ashamed suddenly, for letting his mind entertain such useless thoughts and he felt even more compelled to curl within himself, but he still couldn't and his body, however shut down it felt like, wouldn't permit it.

It would have been so easy to just fall into himself, but he couldn't.

Not until he knew what exactly was coming next.

-o0o-

_He entered carefully and almost quietly and the first thing he saw were the lit scented candles on the marble sink, glowing against the dimmed lights. As always, there were products near the faucet in front of the mirror, the same girly stuff he'd long grown used to seeing around. Turning away from the sink with not even a glance at the mirror itself, his eyes drifted to the body soaking in the tub._

_And what he found will be the image that will haunt him for the rest of his life._

_On the edge of the tub, a pale arm hung limp and unmoving, blood dripping from the tips of the fingers down to the steadily growing pool on the marble tiles. Her head had lolled to the side, blonde hair appearing darker as it usually did whenever it was wet. He couldn't see her face, but he'd been sure her eyes had been closed._

_Not that he had time to look when the moment he'd managed to unfreeze himself, he was at her side, reaching into the half filled tub and pulling her out. His arms hadn't hesitated to slip into the cold water, slipping under the knees and behind her back, the sleeves of his shirt getting soaked almost immediately, but hadn't had time to notice or care about that._

_It barely registered in his mind that she was soaked through the skin in the silk robe she was wrapped in, not when he was suddenly in a frenzy, laying her down on the ground and reaching for the small towel that had been left on the sink._

_He pressed the fabric against the bleeding cut on her left wrist, stemming the flow as best he could while pulling out his phone to call for help. He tried to be as coherent as possible, reciting her address after explaining the most basic facts of what was happening. He hadn't been able to stay on the line when he'd been asked to as, instead, he pressed down deeper onto the cut, stopping the blood flow while at the same time calling her name over and over again._

_It would only be later—much, much later—when he would realize that at that moment he had been screaming at her to wake up, his hands wrapped tightly around one wrist as she lay there, unmoving and both of them covered in the cold bath water and her blood. He would not remember how, but he had moved on from holding her wrist to cradling her head in one arm, holding on tightly as if that would stop her from leaving him altogether. Her skin had been cold, but until the end, he would refuse to think it was anything else but the water that made her cold to the touch._

_He had screamed for her to wake up, shaking her every now and then, unable to help the hysteria that had overtaken him at the sight of her life leaving her body one drop after another._

_But try as he might, his efforts had been in vain and before he knew it, he'd been thrown deep into the bowels of a nightmare he couldn't explain, let alone foresee._

_And it was only beginning._

-o0o-

"They…they said she…"

He was unable to go on and he can understand why. They're both in shock, sitting in the waiting area of the busiest section of the hospital. They must have made quite a pair, one impeccably dressed lawyer and a an older man, covered in blood. He knows he must inspire a mix of feelings—shock, horror, disgust, maybe even pity, but he won't even begin to guess what the other man inspires in the strangers that surround them. He didn't care.

"She wouldn't do this…she wouldn't."

He doesn't say anything, not because he doesn't want to but because he doesn't know _what_ to say. They both know this—she _wouldn't _do this—but the way the whole thing looked, she _did_ do it. But why? They'd had plans, she was waiting for him and he'd spoken with her only hours before. She was happy—at least, she _sounded _happy—had she fooled him? Too many questions for too little time with too little explanations.

It was hell.

"Kurt?"

He turned to the man next to him with is cheeks gaunt and his eyes hollow. He suddenly felt older than he'd ever felt in his life and he knew it wasn't just from exhaustion and shock. He felt heavy, like there was a weight pressing down on him everywhere and even moving just his head felt like a mighty effort. He felt like he's become dead weight.

_Dead_. The word made his blood run colder and he felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

He didn't say anything, and instead just stared at the man next to him.

"What happened?"

He breathed in then stopped midway. Was that blood he smelled? The thought made his heart stop again and he felt even colder. His stomach gave another lurch and his mind began to swim in the most dizzying manner. He might just really get sick. The smell was everywhere and it was enough to make his heart leap to his throat.

He didn't want to breathe anymore.

_What happened?_

"I don't know, Will."

He turned his head towards the double doors at the end of the white hall. People passed, in and out, dressed in different garbs, but he didn't see them. He just saw the doors and nothing else.

_She's in there_, something whispered inside his ear and he couldn't help the image that flashed in his mind again. It's a variation of colors, all connected to different things with meanings that would forever be altered in his mind now.

The puddle on the floor, deep red and for a moment, in his memory, it's almost black. He could be wrong, he hadn't actually been looking. The pale arm hanging over the marble edge and in his mind, it's almost surreal, with the pale skin seemingly whiter than the petals of the lilies he'd left lying on the passenger seat of his car. The beautiful cornsilk hair turned a darker shade of golden brown, wet and sticking to pale white skin that was cold to the touch in the eeriest manner.

And it's only when his eyes bolt open that he realized he had even closed them and it's only then when he's able to comprehend that his heart is beating much too fast for his own good. He was barely breathing and his chest felt dangerously tight. He's never had a heart attack, but he could have one at that moment.

He could die.

But he won't, he can't.

Not until he finds out _why_.

He needed an answer to why this nightmare had begun in the first place.

Too many things didn't make sense that night and he was a man who liked answers.

And once he had them then maybe then he could die.


	2. Chapter Two

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific.**  
><strong>_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises. Blackout is still the main priority in my list of works in progress.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**TWO**

"What is she doing here?"

"I cleared her, you got a problem with that?"

"She-she can't be in here, she—"

"Pull the other one, kid," Detective De Luca grunted, waving the younger officer off as they stood at the threshold of the bedroom of the three story brownstone apartment.

The younger man walked off, but not before looking at his superior then his companion who spared him a look as she stood next to him. Instead, her attention was in the room itself, staring at it with dark scrutinizing eyes, taking in every possible detail.

"They're ready to write this off as an attempted suicide," De Luca said, taking in the elegant and expensively designed bedroom where everything was neat and in order. "But since I knew you'd be sniffing around anyway, I talked to some people and they let me bring you in here, s'long as you don't go anywhere without me."

"They didn't have a problem with my ties to the case?"

"They did," he answered gruffly, "Bitched about it actually, but you've worked with us before and I talked them into it. Seems like this old goat still has a pull in this city…told them you might see something I can't, providing your knowledge…"

Kalinda Sharma nodded, her eyes taking in the red dress on the neatly made bed, "If they're ready to write this off as an attempted suicide, why'd they bring you in from Homicide?"

De Luca shrugged, "Don't know. Probably wanted to be sure, but that's not why we're here. What do you see?"

"Clean," she said simply after a beat. "She was getting ready for a date."

He nodded, "Mhm, with Kurt McVeigh. Ballistics expert, worked with him before too. Good guy. Any idea how he knows her?"

She nodded, "Expert witness in a few cases, but nothing recent."

"So they met through work?"

"Yes," Kalinda answered.

"Have they been seeing each other long?"

"Can't say," she shrugged, "She's private."

"It's not every day there's something you don't know," De Luca commented, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"I didn't say I don't know, I said I can't say," she replied without looking at him then turned her head to the open door at the other side of the room, "It happened in the bathroom?"

He nodded, motioning towards the open door a few feet away from where they stood by the double doors. The door had been left wide open and just inside, Kalinda could see it had been left empty. The forensics team had gotten their evidence, she knew and she didn't expect to find much anymore herself, but she went in anyway, bypassing the bed and heading straight to the open door.

"McVeigh drops a couple of minutes before eight, rings the doorbell, nobody answers," De Luca began the narrative, "He has a key so he went in, headed up to her room and heard the music. He assumed she was late getting ready so he decided to let her know he was there…comes in, sees the dress on the bed, spots the lights in the bathroom…"

Kalinda reached the door just then, standing just outside the master bathroom and it didn't take her long to smell the eerily familiar scent of blood. She'd been on the job long enough to smell it even with the scent of what she assumed was lavender from the unlit candles on the sink, the metallic smell hanging heavily in the air and straight into her sensory memories.

"He found her unconscious in the tub, arm hanging and blood dripping, didn't take a genius to figure out what happened," De Luca went on, his tone unusually sober and lacking the gruffness it usually had. "He pulled her out, got blood on his pants in the process and put her on the floor. Grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding, called for help…tried to get her to wake up, but she didn't. She'd lost too much blood by then already."

She took in the pool of smeared blood on the floor, a mixture of deep red and spilled bath water, turning the dreadful darkness into lighter shades, pinking at the edges. Investigators would have taken samples already and she didn't feel inclined to do so. This isn't what she came for.

She could feel De Luca standing behind her, but she didn't acknowledge him as instead, her mind flashed to an image of what could have happened in the marble bathroom only hours before.

The candles would have been lit, the scent pervading in the bathroom. She imagined that the scent would have been pleasant and not too overpowering and paired with the warm glow in the dimmed room, it would have given off a nice relaxed feeling, perfect for a long bath before a date. The mood would be light with music playing in the background, bubbles and all. It would all be so typical of a woman getting ready for a date, but perfect enough not to fit this particular one.

"Was she unhappy at work? Pressure? Stress?" De Luca asked, observing the area, but knowing he probably wasn't seeing what she was and it wasn't just because she was a woman. This one had instinct that surpassed his, even with all his years on the job. "Anything that could make you think she'd do this?"

"Make my boss kill herself?" she shook her head, "No."

"I've heard of her," he mumbled, "This doesn't seem like something she would do."

Kalinda nodded, "She was getting ready for a date, left work earlier than usual," she said, tilting her head to the side slightly. She wasn't seeing the woman she knew from work now, just some random person she pretended she knew not too much about. She was detaching herself from the scene, thinking like an investigator, leaving the personals for later. "Got her dress out, took a bath, played some music…she was looking forward to this."

"They hadn't seen each other for a week or so," De Luca said, "He was out of town on business. Phone records show he called her when he said he did to confirm she wasn't ditching him. Apparently, it's happened before."

"Life of a lawyer on call," she muttered, "Did they find anything?"

"Nothing, except a half-empty glass of wine, which they took in for analysis," he answered, "And what was used to make the cut."

"What was it?"

"Letter opener," he answered, "Antique, sharp with an ivory handle, expensive. It was engraved with her initials so no questions on ownership."

"Where was it found?" Kalinda asked then waited for a beat before turning to De Luca again when she didn't get an answer. "Tony?"

De Luca gave her a look, but remained silent.

She nodded, slowly, immediately understanding what he was trying _not _to tell her. She turned towards the bathroom again, seeing past the images in her mind and returning to the unlit candles, the heavy scent of blood in the air and the blood smeared floors.

"…_not_ in the bathroom."

-o0o-

_Sinatra played in the background as she got ready, smiling to herself as she pulled the dress out from her closet and laid it on the bed. It was something she had found and immediately fallen in love with at the shop one Sunday afternoon. It was simple, but beautiful and she hadn't been able to make herself wear it to work and have it just end up like any other outfit. Instead, she kept it for a special occasion._

_And that night, the date felt special enough to wear the beautiful creation that fit her like a glove._

_Still dressed in a black silk dressing gown, she grabbed the glass of wine on her bedside table, taking a lazy sip while wondering if she should tell him she decided to start the night off without him. She grinned, shaking her head slightly before putting the glass back, deciding she'd keep this one drink to herself. He would just tease her about her fondness for the grape anyway._

_Heading __back into her walk in closet, she checked her reflection in the mirror on her vanity again, reaching up to tuck an errant lock of blonde hair back in place before continuing on to her shoes. Satisfied with her hair and makeup, she turned away from her reflection with a small smile and stepped further into the closet. She emerged with a pair of black Christian Louboutin peep-toes, laying them down by the side of her bed just as the sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house._

_She checked her watch, frowning when she saw what time it was._

_If that was her date, he was half an hour early._

_Chuckling slightly and tying her dressing gown tighter around her body as she exited her bedroom, she couldn't help but feel the touch of giddiness she hadn't felt in quite some time about a date. Usually the brush of dread would be there and had it been any other man, she would have scoffed at such an early arrival, but not this one._

_She smiled, thinking to herself he was a lot more eager than she had thought._

-o0o-

"Let me know when you have something. Thanks."

Kurt returned to the waiting area just in as Will was hung up his phone. A few of the nurses had somehow taken pity on him and decided to give him a pair of scrubs to change into after showing him a place to wash up in. Someone from the police department had come, taking his statement while Will sat by next to him stoically, declaring himself as his legal counsel.

He'd given his statement while still covered in blood and he had allowed them to take his clothes into evidence. He didn't care as long as he was allowed to stay.

Now, dressed in a pair of dark blue scrubs, he sat himself down wearily on one of the seats in the waiting area, bending at the waist and rubbing the back of his neck with one cold hand while the other planted its elbow on one knee. His hands were cold and red, rubbed raw after his efforts to clean the blood off his skin.

It had been almost surreal, stepping into the washroom and seeing his reflection on the mirror. He had somehow gotten blood on his cheek and he had no idea how it had gotten there, but he did feel his heart stop when he saw the garish smudge on his face. It had dried up into a brownish color, standing out clearly against his paling skin. He had stared at the smudge, frozen in place and for a moment, morbidly hypnotized before his stomach suddenly made a fierce lurch.

The force had been hard enough to make him scramble towards the toilet, falling to his knees and emptying his stomach of its contents, retching violently enough to make his eyes feel the sting of tears. He knelt there until there was nothing left, dry heaving in loud harsh gasps before collapsing against the wall, his heart racing and a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin.

It was all he could to make himself get up, pushing himself and leaning against the wall for support, his knees shaking while trying to get his heart into a safer speed and his breathing back to its regular pace. The small room had spun a little and he had to close his eyes for a few moments before forcing himself to move back towards the sink. His eyes were swimming slightly and he avoided his reflection as he hastily turned on the faucet full blast, grabbing the soap he'd been provided and began to furiously scrub his cheek.

He wasn't sure how long it had taken, but he had furiously rubbed on his face harsh enough to make his skin turn red and hot. As soon as he was sure he'd gotten all the blood off his face, he had leapt straight to his hands, parts of it having been cleaned already from the treatment he'd given his face and did the same furious scrubbing he'd done prior.

Changing into the scrubs, he made sure to clean the blood of his body as well, the little that managed to seep through his clothes and tried to ignore the fact that it was _her _blood he was furiously trying to get off his skin. He didn't dare look at the drain, unwilling to watch more of _her _blood swirl into nothing with the water and the soap, unwilling to face the reality he'd just been dealt.

Instead, he hurriedly changed into the scrubs, only braving to look at himself with another wash of his face and hands, scrutinizing eyes making sure he hadn't missed anything, made sure he'd gotten everything off.

He couldn't take seeing _her_ blood of his skin again.

"The police are at the house," Will said after a moment, sitting across from him in a similar chair though both men avoided looking at each other. He was still dressed in his suit, his coat draped onto the chair next to him while he held on to his phone with both hands. "They're not ruling this as an attempted, uh, suicide yet."

Kurt looked up, his eyes meeting the younger man's as they both happen to glance at each other at the exact same time. He gave him a look, "You can't seriously think…"

"No, of course not," he said, swallowing a little. "But right now, that's how it looks…she-she wouldn't do this. It's…impossible."

"Damn right," Kurt said, snapping slightly then shook his head, covering his face with both hands while resting his elbows at the knees, rubbing his face wearily. "I'm sorry…didn't mean to snap."

"It's fine," Will said, shrugging slightly, glancing at the unforgiving doors at the end of the hall again. "Considering everything that's happened, you're holding yourself together quite well."

Kurt nodded, "I just…she wouldn't do this."

"She wouldn't," Will agreed, "I've got Kalinda on it…someone _did _this to her...we need to find out who and why."

He nodded, "I should have gotten there sooner."

The lawyer shook his head, "I heard what you said…you arrived _earlier _than you'd agreed…if anything, you arrived just in time to save her. This wasn't your fault."

The older man shrugged, letting his hands drop from his face as he let his head loll forward, bending at the waist further until his head was almost between his knees, "I hear you…but I can't _listen_."

Will nodded, "I understand."

Kurt sighed, "Who would do this to her?"

"That's what we're trying to find out."

-o0o-

_She took her time reaching the door, humming along to the song she could still hear playing softly from her bedroom. As she passed a mirror in the hall leading towards the foyer, she glanced at her reflection, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear and silently thankful that she was finished doing her makeup already. Silently, she playfully damned the cowboy for being so early. She had hoped to make herself presentable and on time, being early was just downright playing dirty._

_Knowing him, she was sure he would still make fun of her for being not ready yet, even if he was early. She wasn't sure what she would do to him then, but for sure, she would incite some form of punishment for his making fun of her, which was, as she now knew, something he liked to do for fun. He was a cute tease._

_The__ luxurious material of her silk dressing gown swayed around her calves, her hand brushing against the bow she had tied on one side of her body, making sure it was in place just as she reached the door. A smile appeared on her face as she pulled the door of the foyer open, stepping into the small space between it and the entry door of her home, her smile growing wider as she saw a silhouette just beyond the frosted glass and wrought iron design, illuminated by the porch lights._

_She took a deep breath before opening the door, prepared to say a happy welcome when she realized she'd been wrong to assume who would be on her front door that night. The smile faded from her lips, her face registering a look of slight disappointment for only a flicker for a second before she managed to control her reaction and took a step back, hiding her body slightly behind the door without really thinking about it._

"_Oh," she managed to say, the smile on her face not quite as bright as it started out but it covered the shock she felt only seconds prior, "Hello."_

_The unexpected visitor smiled, __"Good evening, Diane."_

-o0o-

"You see my problem, right?"

Kalinda nodded, turning away from the bloody floors and turning towards the room again. She looked around, immediately spotting the marker that had been left just to her left, a foot or so away from the door of the bathroom. There were a few drops of blood, centered in one space.

"That were you found it?" she nodded towards the area, "The letter opener?"

"Yeah," De Luca nodded, "McVeigh never said anything about it, probably didn't notice it while looking around for her. She was tall…no use looking for a woman on the floor unless you have reason to, right?"

She ignored him, looking around the room, spotting the small desk a few feet away from the bed. There was a small book case next to it, filled with volumes and arranged properly even though the books were obviously different. She eyed the table, spotting a laptop, cell phone and the purse she'd seen earlier that day in the office. In her mind, an image flashed of the woman working there, late into the night. There was an office somewhere in the house, she knew, but she wasn't surprised there was a section in this room for work as well.

The letter opener could have just as easily come from there, seeing as there were a few envelopes, all open, on the desk, just underneath the purse. From the looks of it, they could just as easily be bills or junk mail.

"Did you find anything else?" she asked, almost absently as she looked around the room. Everything seemed in place, nothing disturbed, but somehow, it felt as if something was out of place. She'd never been in there before, never been on this level of the house and yet she could feel it. Maybe it was pure instinct, same one that had always served her well. "Fingerprints?"

"Found them," the detective answered, "But we're not banking on them too much. They could just as easily been hers, but it never hurts to check. The letter opener will be tested too, of course."

"What about the wine glass?"

"That one too, come on, kid, we're not exactly new to forensics," he grumbled, "Give us some credit."

"Did McVeigh touch anything?"

"According to him, he only touched the doors and the banister on his way up," De Luca replied, "And the bathroom door too when he pushed it open. Nothing else, well, except of course the tub when he got her out." He paused, "See anything?"

She shrugged, her eyes falling on the dress on the bed, "No."

De Luca's face fell, "Really?"

"Yeah, except…" she glanced at the shoes.

"What?"

"This wasn't an attempted suicide," Kalinda turned to the old detective.

"How do you know?"

She tilted her head towards the dress, "This woman set is a finisher, type who likes goals and likes reaching them…if she was planning to kill herself, she wouldn't have called up a guy who could arrive in time to save her."

"Maybe it was a cry for attention?"

Kalinda shook her head, "This isn't some teenager we're talking about. This is a grown woman with a mind of her own. She didn't get to where she was playing stupid."

"So you're saying…"

"Someone staged this to make it look like a suicide," she said simply, "And it looks real, almost convincing. It would have worked except whoever did this probably didn't count on McVeigh showing up."

"Tell me more," De Luca said simply, motioning for her to continue.

"Whoever did this wanted her to bleed to death, slowly," she glanced at the bathroom again, "So it looks real, like she really killed herself."

"What about the letter opener?" he tilted his head to the side, "Why leave it by the door?"

"Maybe a mistake," she shrugged, "Or maybe they were counting too much on you chalking this up as a suicide, no questions asked."

"So, we're not looking at a suicide…"

"No," the woman said, dark eyes meeting the detective's, "You're looking for a murderer."


	3. Chapter Three

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific.**  
><strong>_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**THRE****E**

_Her smile was perfunctory, the same smile she used for strangers and __when dealing business. She stood by the door, holding it in one hand while staying just behind it as when she had realized she'd been wrong in assuming who might be at the door. Her body language didn't scream she felt real danger, but she was defensive, as was appropriate considering she wasn't at all expecting this visitor tonight or ever._

"_I'm sorry I came without calling," he said, smiling though his was far more genuine than hers. "I called your firm earlier and they said you'd left and…I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I couldn't. A stronger part of me felt this needed to be settled tonight."_

_She nodded, "Oh, that's fine, er…" she glanced behind her though she wasn't quite sure why._

"_I know it's not exactly a good time to entertain, but would it be all right if I came in?" he asked, "I assure you, I won't take too long…there's just something I need to discuss with you."_

_She hesitated, unsure if this was the best of ideas. It wasn't just because she had to leave in half an hour and finish getting ready. Somehow, something just didn't feel right with the situation._

"_Please, Diane? For old time's sake?" he smiled, almost coyly. "I promise I won't keep you."_

_Chalking up the odd feelings to paranoia, she smiled a somewhat more genuine one, opening the door wider, "Alright then…come in."_

_She stepped aside, letting him pass with a nod of his head and looked outside. She lived in a fairly quiet and safe neighborhood where most people lived similar lives as hers. It was a quiet night, warm even and she thought it was just perfect for going out. She wondered fleetingly if her neighbors had plans that night like she did._

_Closing the door behind her, she smiled at her impromptu visitor, following as he stood at the door of the foyer, holding it open for her with an easy smile on his face._

_Passing by him with a silent thank you, she entered her home again, allowing him to close the door behind her._

"_So, what did you want to talk about?"_

_She heard the lock click in place and faced him with a curious look on her face._

"_What are you doing?"_

-o0o-

"We need to access those—are you kidding me?"

Alicia Florrick stood at the door of Will Gardner's office, her face a mask of control as she waited for permission to enter. He turned, just in time to see her, the fierce expression on his face waning a little as he motioned for her to come in. She nodded, silently entering and standing in the middle of the room, watching him as he paced back and forth in front of his desk, phone pressed to his ear.

The dark suit he wore hid the tension in his body, but in his movements, it was apparent he was agitated. He seemed well put together, as he always did, but to Alicia she could see the minor signs of stress showing in him. His hair was slightly ruffled and it was obvious he'd been running his fingers through them, taking his frustration out on them most likely and the tie on his neck, while impeccably set, wasn't as tight as he usually wore them.

Will usually had good control on himself, but Alicia also knew if he was being pushed or nearing the brink, around something personal or if his emotions were in the way, his passion showed and sometimes, he tended to lose control. At that moment, Alicia could see he was very much well on his way to that by the way he had his jaw set and the way his eyes had taken on that eerie darkness it usually did whenever he was about to do something incredibly damaging.

He was lethal when he was in that mood and Alicia could not help but watch him. He was a passionate man who fought best when he truly cared and whatever he was dealing with, he seemed to feel just that. When not in the way or as collateral damage, he was nice to watch like that. It made him more attractive, more dangerous and it was a sight.

Alicia was married and she was still very much with her husband, but it didn't mean she couldn't _look._ God knew her husband had done worst and in moments like these, especially with the way things were going in yet another election that announced the rising of Peter Florrick from the ashes, Alicia could force herself not to feel _too guilty_. She was concentrating on work and her family, but sometimes, just sometimes, a break didn't truly hurt.

"Tell them they're work product," Will snapped, "It doesn't have anything to do with their investigation and _we _need those files. I wasn't in that meeting, that's why I need those files. Diane handled that one, but—"

At the mention of the other partner's name, Alicia felt her stomach plummet. It was mid-morning already and everyone had heard of what happened to Diane Lockhart. She had arrived that morning, a little late after a delayed breakfast with Peter and the children, when she'd noticed the heaviness in the air. She had come to the usually buzzing workplace and found it unusually quiet, solemn even and she'd ignored it until her assistant had come to her and told her what happened.

There were mostly rumors at that time and one of them had been about Diane Lockhart, the force of nature that ran the firm with Will, committing suicide. Alicia had stared at her assistant for a full half of a minute before asking if it was a joke. The seriousness on the younger woman's face told her otherwise and yet, Alicia refused to believe that. She'd seen Diane just yesterday and she had informed her of a possible new client.

She didn't know the woman well, but she had been fine the day before. In fact, she almost seemed cheerful, not at all a norm with the woman or pretty much anyone in the firm. And it wasn't only that because Alicia also knew for a fact that Diane had left _early_ for work, yet another anomaly in her behavior the day before but not one would contribute to a person who was planning to kill themselves.

Rumors were still floating around and, having learned from personal experience, Alicia knew most of them, if not all even, could most likely be untrue. She knew Diane enough to at least know suicide wasn't in her bucket list and as intriguing as the notion would be, she wasn't about to believe she had actually tried. So instead, Alicia brushed the matter off, sympathizing and saddened by what happened herself, but unwilling to believe any story until she had the facts herself.

So instead, she went about her day as she usually did, worked the hours and finished the papers she needed to finish. She'd been on her way, doing really well at not joining the foray of gossip mongers, when she'd been called to Will's office. She left and made her way, ignoring the still heaviness in the air and the unusually hushed halls of the office, especially in the twenty-eight floor where the partner's offices were.

Alicia had spotted Annie, the assistant assigned to Diane and noticed the stunned expression on the girl's face as their eyes met. Alicia didn't blame the girl, knowing even she had to know the facts could not be right. She expected the girl knew more about Diane than most of anyone in the office and she wouldn't be surprised if the news hit her more on the fact that she might care rather than she might end up jobless if her boss died. Annie was a nice girl.

"Do whatever you have to do, we need those files!" Will snapped into the phone, hanging up and exhaling loudly before rubbing the side of his face with one hand. He stood with his back to Alicia, his hand still pressed to his face while the other maintained a death grip on his phone.

Even from where Alicia stood, she could see he was tense enough that his shoulders were shaking slightly. His suit could pretty much conceal anything, but it couldn't conceal the clearly bottled up rage that was just threatening to come out of its wearer. Will, in that moment was essentially like a pressure cooker—dangerous and volatile and just waiting to let some tension be released.

"Will?" Alicia said, carefully, swallowing a little and trying her damndest to maintain the neutrality to her voice.

"Yeah," he said then cleared his throat, letting his shoulders drop before turning to her.

"You okay?" she asked, hands clasped in front of her and standing still though her eyes observed him discreetly. His eyes were still dark though she could see it wasn't just from strong emotions now. He was tired, that much was obvious and it was only then she had a first rumor confirmed—Will had gone to the hospital and with the way his eyes were looking and his shoulders were dropping as if he had the weight of the world on himself, it was possible he'd been there the night before, when everything began.

Suddenly, Alicia felt incredibly bad for him. It was hard enough running a firm, to have something like whatever happened to Diane pile on was just an addition she knew he didn't need.

"Fine," he sighed, motioning for her to take a seat on the couch while he plopped himself down onto the overstuffed chair fit for one. He dropped onto the seat heavily, uncaring about his suit and settled in, resting his elbows on the arm rests and letting one hand drop to cover his eyes while the other dangled his phone in one hand. They sat in silence, Alicia seated on the edge of the couch, hands linked together and watching him still.

She waited for a few moments before she decided to speak, "Will, about Diane…"

"No," his hand left his eyes though he kept them closed. He waved his hand blindly, as if erasing something in the air, "We're not talking about that. Not right now. I can't because if I do, it'll drive me insane so, no. I'm sticking to work right now…it's the one thing I can do for her at this point."

"Okay," she nodded, understanding and not at all offended. She could see his point of view on this one clearly. "But I'm here, if you'd like to talk."

Will opened his eyes, smiling a little when he looked at her, "Trying to help me save money by playing shrink?"

She smiled a little, "No, just being a friend."

He nodded, blinking slowly, "That's nice. Thanks."

Alicia nodded straightening her back and sitting up, "So, you needed to see me?"

"Yeah," he nodded, flashing a tired, but grateful smile as he too sat a little straighter, pushing his body up and straightening his suit before they got permanent creases. "I missed the meeting with Patrick Schering yesterday."

"Oh, yes, I know," she nodded, "Diane called me in after Mr. Schering left. He owns that chain of ad agencies on the east coast?"

"That one," Will nodded, "Did you manage to discuss things with Diane?"

"Just that he needs our services," she answered, frowning a little. "He's due to come in for a meeting in the afternoon, she wanted me to sit in."

"We signed Schering in then?" she nodded at the question, "And there's a meeting this afternoon…we're handling that, are you okay with that?"

Alicia nodded, "Of course." She eyed his phone, "Are you having problems with the case already?"

Will looked at his phone, "The police took Diane's things in for evidence…they were in her bedroom. I've been trying to get them cleared all morning. I sent Abrams there but he's just getting stonewalled."

Alicia nodded, "Well, we haven't even started yet. As of right now, I don't even know what the case is. Diane was getting ready to leave by the time I was called in…"

"Oh," Will said, nodding a little. "Patrick Schering is being accused of rape by Alexis Tomlin." He looked at her, "Will it be okay for you to handle a case like this?"

"What do you mean?" Alicia asked then saw the look on his face, "Peter…?"

"And the campaign," he nodded, "Will this…make waves of some sort?"

Alicia thought for a moment, "Maybe, I mean, it's bound to, but if the firm is handling it…they'll come after me anyway. It's fine…Eli Gold will have a few things to say, for sure, but this case is only beginning…I can help with the leg work for now. With Diane out, I can help. I'll step back if I have to."

Will nodded, "That's…that's really brave of you. Thank you."

She smiled, "I'm brave when I can be and with Eli around to point out warning flags, it gets pretty easy." She shrugged, "Besides, Peter and I already talked…I'm keeping my job. I like working."

He nodded, "And you're good at it so that doesn't hurt either."

"Yeah," she chuckled a little, "Now, the case? Schering being accused of rape?"

"He was at a party being thrown by a friend of his in the city, to commemorate his plans going forward in putting in some roots here," Will began, "Everyone was there and Alexis Tomlin came too. The drinks came, the temperatures rose and…the party started. She drank with everyone and the next thing she knows, she's waking up in a bedroom naked next to a shirtless Schering next to her, passed out."

Alicia nodded, "She doesn't remember what happened?"

"No," Will shook his head, "And Patrick swears up and down he never touched her. He can't remember, but he said he never even saw her that night, didn't even know her. He woke up alone."

"Did they do a rape kit?"

"No," he shook his head, "Which is why we're pretty confident this case might not get as crazy as you'd expect it to. The way it looks, Patrick looks like he's just being accused by a greedy opportunist—they have no evidence to support her claims."

"No evidence," she nodded, "Sounds pretty straightforward…at least, for now."

Will nodded, "Patrick's an old friend. He needed a favor, but Weston was on the line yesterday and wouldn't let go. I passed it off to Diane, but the case was headed that way already anyway."

"She's okay with this?"

"Looked like it," he shrugged, "She was willing to hear him out. This case bears some…_sensitivity _I can't provide, I thought Diane would be more suitable for this so it was only logical they meet."

Alicia nodded, "Will Mr. Schering mind I'm handling the case and not a partner?"

Will smirked, "No. Patrick's trust count just climbed a point higher when he heard you were available. Apparently, he's a fan of Peter's."

She shifted slightly in her seat, "Really?"

"Yeah," Will nodded, "So thanks. Patrick's a friend, but he's never been a client up to now." He looked around his office, "He's expanding his business and decided to make Chicago his first stop. We want _that _business."

"And if we represent him and win, we're in," Alicia nodded, "Same old game."

Will nodded, "Players change, but the game stays the same."

Alicia gave a small smile, "I'll take care of it."

"You always do."

-o0o-

_She could feel the tension in her body as she watched him stand a few feet across from her. The pleasant conversation had turned into something else, something entirely different and not for the first time, she wondered why she had let him into her home in the first place. She crossed her arms over her chest, more of a protective gesture than a sign of defiance._

_The lines were more pronounced on his face, his eyes bulging slightly and his jaw was set. He was gesturing wildly as he spoke and she had taken a few steps away from him but even then it wasn't enough in the large living room they were occupying. The easy discussion had quickly escalated into a screaming match, more on his side than hers when she'd been trying to try and calm him back down again, but it seemed he couldn't be calmed then and therein lay her problem that moment._

_She'd nearly forgotten she still had a date to finish getting ready for and that she was still dressed in her dressing gown, but with a clearly agitated man standing in her home, angry and obviously on the brink of some sort of break, she knew she had to do something fast before anything else could happen._

"_You need help," she said in a level voice, her tone set and steady but inside, she was beginning to feel the tingles of distress. Silently, she cursed at herself for bringing this upon herself but not trusting her initial instincts to close the door when he'd asked to come in. She should have known better._

"_I do not need—" he stood, his fists clenched in front of him, as if trying to keep himself in control. His knuckles were turning white, she could see, and there were beads of sweat on his brow. "Have you not been listening, for god's sake? I need YOUR help!"_

"_And I will, but I can only do so much," she said, almost coldly. She didn't like being yelled at, it never served her temper well. "But _you_ have a problem, you know this. You need help."_

"_I need you to make it go away. Do it," he said, taking a step towards her and, by pure instinct, she backed away from him. He stopped, staring at her with his head tilted to one side as if surprised by her actions. "Diane…?"_

_She shook her head, clenching her fist behind one elbow tightly and set her jaw, hating herself for such a reaction—she was in no position to show weakness and taking that step back was a mistake. She blinked, shaking her head slightly again and bent her head down before looking at him again. _

_Her eyes had turned into a steely shade of blue and she kept them steady as his eyes met hers._

-o0o-

"You know, we can't just rule out suicide."

Kalinda turned to De Luca, raising an eyebrow at him, "Really."

"She could have just cut herself there, dropped the letter opener and…" he shrugged, "Moved to the tub."

"Yeah, and if we're going by this assumption," she walked out of the bedroom, the bulky man lumbering behind her, "Why don't we also assumed she cut herself and decided to throw the letter opener out of the bathroom while we're at it?"

The ridiculous image of Diane Lockhart with a bleeding wound throwing a bloody letter opener out of the bathroom for whatever reason was enough to make her roll her eyes. She was open to checking all avenues, but this one was just too ridiculous to even consider, what else could she do but mock the detective? Good as he was, he was a little too thorough.

"Aw, come on," he said behind her, "Don't be damned sarcastic. We're looking at this from every angle."

Kalinda rolled her eyes, "What angle?"

"There are no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle and did you see that room?" he enumerated, "Everything is in place."

"Except for the letter opener," she pointed out. "She could have known her assailant."

"What assailant?" De Luca asked, "There was _nothing _on her except that cut, nothing to suggest she was manhandled or attacked in anyway. And don't give me some crap about bruising taking time because I _get _updates from the hospital and they still don't have anything."

The woman shook her head, "And what makes you think I don't get updates as well?"

"Why did I bring you into this again?"

"Because you need my help," she said simply.

"That's a load of crap," he growled, "I could have your ass hauled out of here, kid. I can close this case myself."

A ghost of a smile graced her serene features even though he couldn't see her, "Hot around the collar, Tony."

"You piss me off, you know that?"

She smirked, "Then I've reached one of my goals for the day."

"Ah, bite me."

-o0o-

"_Diane?"_

"_This was a mistake," she said, her tone cold now. "I can't talk to you about this…it's a conflict. I'm sorry, but you have to leave. I can't help you."_

"_Wh-what? Are you kidding me?" he said incredulously, his eyes widening in shock and more than a hint of anger, "After _everything _I just told you, you're saying no?"_

"_Yes, I'm sorry," she said, "Please, leave."_

_She made a move to leave the living room, turning away from him, but before she could take more than three steps towards the hall leading to the foyer, he was on her, angry hand reaching for her arm. She had felt the rush of air behind her his sudden movement had caused and she had stepped back, almost clear out of his reach, but he tips of his fingers latched on to the bell sleeve of her gown._

_A gasp escaped her lips and she moved, wrenching herself out of his grasp and raised her voice as she demanded, "What do you think you're doing?" _

"_I am not going to let you screw me over," he snarled, taking another step towards her and she back up, both hands set in front of her in a feeble attempt to block whatever was about to happen. "Not after everything I just told you!"_

"_I will hold everything you say in confidence," she declared, "I'm only saying now that I _can't _represent you!"_

"_Why not?" he snarled, standing still now "Because of what happened? Christ, Diane, you've handled worst cases before, when did you become such a sanctimonious bitch?"_

"_You need help, there's a difference!" she said, taking another step back even though he had stopped moving._

_Every inch of her was screaming for her to get out, to run and get into a locked room with a phone. By now, she knew things had gotten volatile and the best course of action was to get help. She didn't care if he was intending to do something or not, she _felt _like she was being cornered like a prey, she wasn't about to take her chances tonight or any other night._

"_I don't need help, goddamn it!" he screamed and reached for her again, __this time, throwing his full weight forward and charged at her. Startled, she jumped and backed away and made a move to run, but she'd been clumsy, tripping on the carpet and landed face down on the carpeted floor._

_She rolled, but barely just in time when he was on her, pushing her down when she tried to get up and settled on his knees on top of her. She gasped when his hands landed on her shoulders, pinning her down and let his full weight settle on her chest. He had her arms trapped underneath him, just under his legs but didn't settle his weight on them so she flailed, gasping again when the weight on her chest increased and showed no signs of lessening._

_Her eyes wide and full of horror, she looked up at her attacker, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she tried to push him off her body, failing. Her legs kicked behind him, unable to reach anything or any part of him she could hurt to make him get off._

"_You're not ruining me," he snarled and pressed down again, forcing out another gasp out of her though this time it was even more strangled and strained. "I won't let you."_

_Her eyes swam as hot tears filled them and she felt his full weight settling heavier and heavier on her chest, leaving her breathless and her body __reacting to being deprived of the oxygen it demanded. Her vision blurred and she blinked, her mouth open as she tried to suck in air she was severely lacking then._

_She made a feeble attempt of trying to dislodge him off of her again, but this time, she was weaker than before, her last reserve of strength fading rapidly as her body began to wane in its fight. She blinked once when she felt a type of blackness beginning to cling to her vision, starting at the edges then seemed to multiply with each failed attempt she exerted to try and suck in the air she so desperately needed._

_With a strangled gasp, her body made one last attempted to push him off, but this time, it was barely anything then as her eyes slipped closed then open again, slower this time and by then, with the tears in her eyes and the blackness that was slowly drowning her, she was barely seeing anything._

_And somehow she was thankful for in the last moments of fear and weakness, she couldn't let herself have her killer's face be her last memory before her death. So instead, she closed her eyes, her mind flashing to the red dress in the room, the color vivid in her memory despite the blackness that was slowly taking over._

_The tears then fell from her eyes, slipping down her fevered skin and into her hairline and she gave another gasp, her eyes tightly closed and a soundless sob escaping her lips._

_In her last thoughts in that very last moment, she felt her heart break for the man she would not be meeting that night, knowing whatever he may come to tonight, it would forever change things for him. She knew that this might very well be the end and somehow, even when she knew she should regret things, a part of her was glad._

_She still had so much to say to him, so many things that she could have shared with him, but in those last moments, even when her body screamed to live, she felt a serene sort of calm overtake her. A part of her was glad, even when death's fingers brushed at her, because in the last moments of her life, she had known true happiness._

_They had been late and the__ times they shared would never quite amount to being enough but somehow, the calm that overtook her made her feel happy enough to have had them with him so, she let her eyes stay closed, her weakened body slowly ceasing in its fight and the blackness began its overtake, this time faster and quicker as she stopped fighting it altogether, her legs ceasing in its movements as well as her arms and hands. She saw his face before the blackness took over completely and her mind finally retreated within itself._

_And in__ that last moment she felt released._


	4. Chapter Four

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific.**  
><strong>_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**FOUR**

The morning had come all too quickly for him.

Waking up with the sun filtering through the windows of his hotel room, he found himself blinking awake for no reason at all other than his body noticing it was the next day already. He laid there on the strange bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find some reserve of strength to get up and begin his day. A part of him told his body to get up, but it seemed his body wasn't up to listening because the more he tried, the more he just lay there, unmoving and staring at nothing except the drab pale cream colored ceiling.

God knows how many strangers have been in that room, but he couldn't imagine anyone else feeling what he was feeling at that moment which was nothing. It was as if everything had been sucked into this black hole that just kept taking everything in, leaving everything else nothing but hollowed shells and that was exactly what he was at that moment.

He felt empty, drained.

And the more he tried to move, the more he tried to make himself shake off the darkness that kept pulling him under, he couldn't. It was like a futile fight in a battle he knew he had no chance of winning and it just made the depressing weight settling on him feel even heavier, almost crushing him into the nothingness.

He stared, blinking once then twice and tried to swallow but couldn't. He couldn't be sure the last time he'd drank anything, not sure when he did anything actually. For the most part, all he could remember from the night before was being deposited into a car and being driven to a hotel. Someone had been kind enough to get his bag of extra clothes from his car, which he'd left behind when he got into the ambulance, so he had clothes to wear that day. Not that it really mattered, of course.

Vaguely he could remember someone talking to him softly while walking almost robotically to the hotel room that had been rented for him, being taken into the room then left there. He's not even sure how he found the bed, but apparently he had. The more he tried to remember, the less he could. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he didn't care at the moment. Who gave a damn about anything right now? He sure couldn't.

Turning on his side and blinking against the sunlight coming through the windows, he flinched, wishing someone could turn the light off. He didn't like light very much at the moment, it hurt his eyes and made his head throb like he was suffering a hangover that wasn't. He turned again, this time to the other side, only to find himself face to face with a close door and his watch on the nightstand next to the phone.

He grabbed the timepiece, slipping it around his wrist and felt the weight settle. It was the first feeling of the day he could actually distinguish and somehow, he felt a comfort in that. It had been a gift from her, one of the oddities that he'd later discovered about her. She liked buying things, like most women, but somehow, when it came to him, she liked buying things _just because_.

The first time she had done it, it was that watch and she bought because it reminded her of him. He thought it was sweet and cute so naturally, he teased her about it. He had laughed and asked if she was trying to make him stay by giving him gifts and she had taken offense in that and sulked away from him though she had masked that with anger and calling him ungrateful. He'd been sorry, had made up for teasing her like that and took her out to dinner and got her something nice as well. Since then, it had become something he chalked up to just her being herself.

She was sweet and thoughtful, a part of her she liked to hide behind the armor she wore in front of people. She had gradually learned to reveal that side of her to him and he had reveled in it, glad that there was a part of her only he was allowed to see. She was so guarded, so good at putting up walls, to be allowed access to such a secret part of her was a gift more valuable than anything she could ever buy him.

Looking at the gift now, he wondered if he ever told her that or if she ever knew. He was sorry now, for being unsure if he actually took the time to tell her. God knew there was so much he could have said to her, so much he needed for her to know and he hated himself for not seizing the opportunities that came when they did. She revealed herself to him, more than she had with anyone and that should have compelled him enough to tell her everything.

She gave herself to him, something she had been quite obviously been afraid to do, but she had done it anyway. Him, though? He'd taken his time, he had waited though he didn't know why anymore. He'd been a coward for so many times and somehow, he felt he deserved what was happening to him, for not quite appreciating her as he should have, for holding back.

This was punishment for disregarding time, for foolishly thinking they had all the time in the world.

Letting his arm drop back onto the bed, his hand flew to cover his eyes, forcing out the light and throwing himself into some form of darkness, knowing it was the only way he could find it at the moment. Thoughts raced through his tired mind, moments he missed, moments when he had let chances slip between his fingers. He couldn't understand why he had hesitated, not now. He should have done so many things, before this happened.

She'd given him time and what he'd done with it was simply lose it.

And that was enough to make this grown man weep in silence.

-o0o-

"Good afternoon, Mr. Schering."

Patrick Schering gave her a friendly smile as he stood up, extending his hand towards her across the table, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Florrick. It's nice to meet you, although I'm sorry it's under these circumstances."

Alicia nodded and shook his hand before motioning for him to take a seat. Will sat next to her, having just come in to hear his friend's words and nodded at him before taking the seat next to her.

"So, Mr. Schering," Alicia began and flipped her notes open, having had the chance to gather the copies from Diane's assistant, Annie, who'd thankfully managed to make them from the previous day. "I've been briefed on your case. An Alexis Tomlin is accusing you of assaulting her."

Patrick nodded, nodding his full head of dark brown hair and a disturbed frown set on his handsome features. He looked about the same age as Will and was dressed similarly in a suit although his style was more East Coast with the darker black suit and the solid colored tie that complimented him well.

"She claims I, erm," he shifted uneasily in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say, "_Raped_ her the night of the party, but…honestly, I've tried to remember her, but I couldn't. I know I drank most of the night, but I've never been violent or anything like that under the influence…I don't even drink that much usually, but it was a party and we had a lot to celebrate."

Alicia nodded, "You don't remember seeing her at all? We will be speaking to witnesses, but from her statement, she claims she was with everyone at some point. Miss Tomlin doesn't deny she mingled with everyone, you included."

"It was a party," Patrick said, shrugging a little, his right hand reaching for his left cuff, adjusting it though it was mostly to keep his fingers busy, "If I mingled with her, it must have been in passing because I remember I was drinking and the music was loud…if anything, it just reminded me of days back when we were in college." He turned to Will, "Remember those? You were a pre-law, but that didn't stop us from getting drunk every night."

Will chuckled and nodded, "The SigEp always knew how to throw a party." Then glanced at Alicia who was listening with a neutral expression on her face, "But really, Rick, are you sure you don't remember the girl? I mean, not even a glance or, you know, if she flirted?"

"I've seen a picture of the girl," Patrick said, "And I'm sure you have too, Will, if she flirted with me, I would have remembered."

Alicia nodded, pulling out a picture of the striking brunette with her big doe eyes, full lips and young face. She was twenty-four and beautiful, she could understand how it would be hard to forget her, even while under the influence of alcohol.

"At the moment, they don't have any evidence from that night," Will said, taking over as he leant forward folding his hands in front of him, "She has nothing except her word and we're pretty confident we can get this one clean without any hassles in the public."

"That's good to know," Patrick nodded, "I really am looking forward to starting a branch here in Chicago…if this gets out even before I even start my plans, I'm pretty sure I'll be screwed." He sighed, "And really…I can't have this. I mean, I'm not this kind of guy…I mean, I _hate _those kind of guys, to end up looking like one of them…" A desperate look appeared on his face as he looked from Will to Alicia, "I don't want that."

Will nodded, "We'll do everything we can, Patrick, you have the firm's support."

Alicia nodded as well, "You're in good hands, Mr. Schering."

Patrick nodded, "Thank you."

"Now, we're going to have to talk to people," Will said, "Your friend…the one who hosted the party…?"

"Steven," he answered, "Steven Phelps, an old friend."

Will looked at Alicia, a small frown creasing his features before he turned to Patrick again, "We will be contacting him too if he's willing to testify."

"He is," Patrick nodded, "He was pretty worried about this too, kept apologizing. He wanted to welcome me to Chicago properly and it's ending up in court."

Will shook his head, "We're not there yet, Rick, don't worry. We're going to be checking this out with our investigator and see if anyone knows anything. The way this looks, we won't even end in court if we find a way to nip this in the bud."

Patrick nodded, taking a deep breath then let it out slowly, "Thanks…this was beginning to be a nightmare I can't wait to get out of, god."

Alicia nodded, "We understand how you're feeling."

Patrick looked at him, "Speaking of nightmares…I heard about Diane. I'm sorry." He made a motion with his hand, "She was great yesterday and it was nice meeting her. She was a lovely woman…I can't believe what happened."

Alicia glanced at Will as eyes fell to his lap before he nodded, adjusting his suit absently before nodding, "Yeah, same here."

"If there's anything I can do, Will…"

"No, it's fine," he shook his head, "Concentrate on your case, if you remember anything or think of anyone who can help you, let us know. We'll be working on this, don't worry."

Patrick nodded, "Of course."

Will smiled, "We'll keep in touch…if we find anything, we'll let you know."

"Of course," Patrick nodded then turned to Alicia, "Thank you, Mrs. Florrick. It really was nice to meet you. I met your husband Peter a few years ago. Great guy, I'm glad his troubles have passed."

Alicia managed a polite smile, "We're glad too."

"He's one reason to actually like Chicago," he shrugged, "I'm not a lawyer, but I heard he was a good State's Attorney and the way things look, he's making a good comeback. If he remembers me, please let him know I send my best."

"I will," she nodded.

Patrick turned to Will, "I've got something lined up, need to check with a few contractors…walk me out?"

Will turned to Alicia who nodded at him as they all stood up, "Of course."

The three of them shook hands and as they headed out and went their separate ways, Alicia went back to her office, more than glad she had work to focus on for the day. She checked her notes, making a list of people to contact and people she would be asking Kalinda to check out. She was out on a case and Alicia could easily guess it would have something to do with Diane, but she was sure she wouldn't mind the work, considering it seemed it would be considerably lighter.

As far as she could tell, Alexis Tomlin's case wouldn't be holding much water, considering her recent meeting and the basics on the case. The evidence was nonexistent and it was basically 'he said, she said' and from experience and logic, she could tell this could easily go in their favor. Plus, it helped that their client seemed genuine enough.

Basing on what she'd seen, Alicia had a good feeling about Patrick Schering.

-o0o-

"Damn, yeah, yeah…I heard you. Good, thanks."

De Luca looked at Kalinda, giving her a dirty look as she stood on the other side of the precinct, her phone in hand as she gave him a look of her own. She was a piece of work that one, managing to look cocky and neutral at the same time with just the faintest shift in her expression. The girl had a hell of a poker face, he was sure if he tried playing poker with her he'd wound up suffering a heart attack before the first hand was even over.

He motioned her over and waited until she arrived, "I'm not even going to ask how you know, I don't wanna know which idiot just gave you the news I got. It's a goddamned leak, but knowing you and your…_ability_ to inspire an interesting sort of loyalty, I'm sure I won't even get close to finding your guy."

"Okay," she said simply, the corner of her lips curling up for what seemed like a nanosecond then it was gone.

"I'm sure you know what they found at the house?"

She nodded, "A disturbance, in the living room. They found it while searching the rest of the house?"

"Yeah, a disturbance on the rug," he nodded, "Discarded slippers and a tipped over vase of flowers found under one of the chairs."

"Like it rolled there when it fell," Kalinda nodded, "Then the water dried up, the rug was light…easy to miss."

"But lucky they didn't," he mumbled, "So this could mean there was something that happened…maybe prior to what happened or directly linked to it."

"Yes," she nodded then raised an eyebrow at him, "Your phone."

"What?"

"It's about to ring," as soon as she'd said it, his phone did just that, chirping to life in his hand and he gave her a glare before answering. She waited, checking her own phone while a few messages arrived as he spoke into his, firing rapid replies and finishing just as he hung up.

"Would it be wasting my breath if I tried to ask?" he grumbled, giving her a dirty look.

"Pretty much," she said, "That was the hospital?"

"Yeah, like you didn't know," he rolled his eyes, "So it wasn't a suicide. They found bruises on the chest, pressure points and the best guess they have is someone pushed heavily down on her lungs—positional asphyxia."

"There were bruises on her forearms too," Kalinda added, "Someone pinned her, if your theory is right, then whoever did it, put pressure on them, most likely with their legs."

De Luca nodded, "You rolling with me today, kid. Looks like we're chasing the same ghost and the way it looks, we pretty much have what the other has."

Kalinda couldn't help but smirk, "Sure about that?"

"Would you just get moving?" he growled, pointing to the door. "Get your car started, girly. I'm gonna let the kid partner wait out the lab results, they got the robe there…god knows what they'll get or d'you have the answers for that one too, oh wise and all knowing one?"

She smirked, heading out the door and out of the precinct.

-o0o-

"Here's another batch of files from Miss Lockhart's office."

Will's assistant, Kate, entered his office, placing a stack of folders onto his desk, next to the previous pile she'd already taken in. After sending off their latest client, Patrick Schering, Will had come to her desk, asking to contact Annie about a few case files from Diane's office. She wasn't sure what he was looking for but from the piles of folders he was searching through, he was pretty intent on finding something.

"Thanks," Will replied, distracted as he placed a folder aside and reached for another, "Tell Annie said thanks…and to please let me know if she finds out anything. Oh, and to let me know if she's reached Kurt McVeigh…"

Kate nodded, "She saw him last night and booked him in a hotel, as per your instruction. She hasn't heard from him yet, but she's on her way to check on him."

"Good, good," Will nodded, "He's not doing well right now, I want to make sure…" he stopped, then sighed, looking up at her with a tired look on his face. "Let me know?"

Kate nodded, "I will, but are you sure you don't need help? I can look, if you'd like…"

Will nodded, "Sure. There was a name Patrick mentioned in the meeting, a Steven Phelps…sounded familiar but I wasn't sure where I'd heard it before then I remembered Diane had a client named Phelps a few years ago."

She looked at the dates on the files, "That's a long time…more than ten years. Are you sure you're remembering this right?"

"Yeah," Will nodded, "Stern pawned it off on her and she handled it. I remember she was pissed about it, but I think she won." He rubbed the back of his neck, "I think it was assault."

Kate nodded then sat down on the visitor's chair across from him, "Okay, so Steven Phelps."

"Yeah," Will mumbled, "I'm not even sure if this is relevant, but we might end up using him as witness…if he was a client then we're going to need to make sure we get our facts straight."

"Avoiding conflict and shooting yourself in the foot," Kate nodded.

"Yeah," Will nodded as he went on looking. "Kalinda's out and we're getting her on Schering too, but I don't want her backlogged right now. Phelps should be here somewhere, I'll have to find it myself."

Kate nodded, "Annie's pretty organized. She took care of the filing of the old cases a while back so it should be here. If not, I'm sure I can check on the firm's archives."

Will nodded absently, "Thanks."

-o0o-

She was getting nowhere.

At least, in terms of the neighbors which really didn't surprise the private investigator all that much and as far as she knew, Kurt was lucky enough that someone could even verify his presence the night before. Posh as the neighborhood was, people were extremely private and partially paranoid too. Still, a part of her banked on someone being obsessive enough to set up cameras somewhere though from the way it looked, she was getting nowhere on that theory too.

Taking a step back on to the sidewalk, Kalinda looked around, eyeing Diane's house and as well as the one across from it and the ones next to hers. Those three would have at least gotten a good vantage point of anyone leaving the place, including whoever was responsible for attacking Diane if they had been there to see, but of course, they hadn't. It had been one of those quiet nights when everyone was either out already or was still on the way back and so far, she had nothing.

She had separated from De Luca when he'd gotten a call about his investigation. Last she'd seen him, the detective had been peeved but she couldn't blame him. People were leaning heavily on this case, having already attracted the news desks as well as the papers. By tomorrow, Diane's name would be on the papers and the stories would be coming out. She was actually surprised it had taken them this long, but she could credit that on discretion too as well as the current political hype surrounding the coming election for the State's Attorney's office.

Following the wake of Glenn Childs' dropping out of the race, people were pretty tuned in on the election. She was sure that should Diane's name come out in the papers, Alicia's would follow as well, if only for the association through the firm. Shaking her head at the vultures, she headed on out to her car, slipping in and sitting behind the wheel. She looked around the neighborhood again, surveying the windows.

She'd just been reaching to slip her key in the ignition before something caught her eye on the house next to the one right across from Diane's place. Her dark eyes squinted as she bent her head forward, looking closer until she realized just what exactly she was seeing.

The windows were lined with curtains, but from her vantage point, she could see a distinct small face peeking through the break in the fabric on the middle window on the second floor of the brownstone. She saw a glimpse of what could have been a toothy smile and the curtains fluttered again before the face disappeared.

Pulling her key back and slipping it into her jacket pocket, she got out of her car again, grabbing her small notebook and locking her doors. Making sure to check the roads before crossing, she hurried to the house across the street, intent on getting to the bottom of what she'd seen.

If what she was thinking was exactly what that was, she was sure she might have just stumbled on to something.

Kalinda could not help the ghostly smile that appeared on her features just as she reached the steps leading up to the doorstep of the house.

She knocked and waited.

-o0o-

Annie Clawson entered the room as quietly as she could.

The first thing she noticed was that the living area was as pristine as she had left it the night before. Immediately, she took that as a sign that the occupier of the room had not ventured into it. Adjusting her bag that was hanging on her shoulder, the petite brunette ventured further into the room, room key in hand. She glanced at the kitchen area and found it empty as well.

"Mr. McVeigh?" she called out, venturing into the hotel room further and heading for the bedroom. She had left the man there that night and from the way it looked, he managed to find the bedroom himself where she'd left his bag. She was glad, she'd been worried. He'd been a little out of it the night before to actually say much.

Coming to the door of the bedroom, she knocked three times, calling his name again only to find no answer. Nervous now and a little afraid, she knocked again only to receive silence once more. She took a deep breath before deciding to come in and reached for the handle.

And that exact same moment, the door swung open, taking her by surprise enough to make her let out a small scream, one hand pressed to her chest while the other over her mouth. With wide eyes, she stared at Kurt McVeigh, no longer dressed in scrubs but rather in the clothes he'd had in his bag. He stood there, clean shaven and put together and if she hadn't known him, she wouldn't have known something was wrong.

But she knew the man, not too well, but well enough to know he wasn't completely himself at the moment.

There was a certain dullness to his eyes and even as he stood properly, she could detect a slight drop in his shoulders and the stony set of his features. He was composed, but incredibly so in a way that he seemed almost like a statue and she couldn't blame him and was not surprised.

He was looking a lot more polished than the night before, but she could see the brittleness about him. It was an unusual look for the somewhat soft-spoken and reserved man and to Annie, it was like looking at an altogether different person.

"Mr. McVeigh," she breathed, smiling shakily. "I'm sorry to bother you, but Mr. Gardner said I should check on you and I wanted to make sure that you're okay too."

"I'm fine," he nodded, "Sorry for scaring you."

"You-you didn't," she said, "I was just…surprised."

He shrugged wordlessly and walked passed her, his bag in hand. Annie followed, glancing inside the room and finding it as clean as the night before, as if it hadn't been used. She glanced at the man, swallowing slightly before taking off after him.

"Uhm, Mr. McVeigh?" she called, following him as he kept on walking. "Are you checking out? Because this room was booked for at least three days and—"

"It's fine," he said, sounding almost hollow, "I'm going home. Thank you for…helping last night."

"What?" she echoed, catching him just as he reached the door, "I mean, you can stay, in fact, you _should_ stay—please, the arrangements have been made and-and—"

"I have to go," he said simply, pulling the door open with barely a glance in her direction.

"Mr. McVeigh, please—"

He stopped, breathing in once before turning to face her, "I'm sorry, Miss Clawson, but I can't stay here…I'm going home, grabbing a few things and finding a place to stay somewhere else."

"But—"

"This isn't the best place," he said quietly, "Believe me, I'll be fine."

Annie watched him go, closing the door behind her, wondering what was going on. She sighed then followed, dialing for the number of her boss' usual driver under the firm's payroll. She followed him right into the elevator, thanking him when he held the doors for her and stood beside him, feeling awkward and confused. He didn't offer any further explanations and instead, continued standing in silence until they reached the ground floor. Ever the gentleman, he let her step off first before following and they both headed to the counter.

She processed the rest, insisting that she should because it was her job and he nodded, stepping back and waiting while she did, all the while wondering. She offered they wait for the car that would take him to where his was and they waited together. His silence continued while Annie did her work, what little of it there was at the moment, as discreetly as she could, making specific arrangements and checking for more places in the city.

When the car arrived, he slid in the back and she took the front, directing the driver where to go and watched as he sat behind her. He was a quiet man, she knew that, but she noticed the heaviness that pervaded him too. Everything was weighing down on him and Annie could not help but feel sorry for him, realizing just what he was going through, the grief and the pain this was all bringing him. She knew he cared deeply for her boss.

Glancing behind her and the hotel they were leaving behind, Annie looked up once more just in time to catch a glimpse of the logo at the top of the building.

Visible among the sky scrapers, the name Westin Hotel was visible even in the distance, the silver lettering glimmering in the afternoon sun.

Annie was good, especially concerning her work, but as she sat and watched the city go by, she had no idea just exactly why the man seemed intent on leaving the place. She chalked it up to grief and didn't dwell on the subject, as far as she knew, she was there to make this as easy for him as possible, knowing he was going through enough.

Behind her, she was oblivious to the memories running continuously in the older man's mind, memories of what had happened in that particular place. His face had grown even stonier as he sat still, one hand curled into a tight knuckle while the other held on to his phone.

Annie looked away, thinking she would never really know.


	5. Chapter Five

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific.**  
><strong>_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**FIVE**

"Hell of a day."

De Luca sat, one hand curled around a bottle of beer, resting his elbows on the bar. Next to him, Kalinda sat, staring at the lined bottles on the shelf across from them. Music played in the background, jazz music that the old detective didn't like all that much, but he came there often enough anyway whenever he had a day that lasted just a little longer than usual.

"So what do you say, kid?" he asked, not bothering to look at the woman next to him when he could easily guess she'd have that neutral look on her face that sometimes really just freaked him out. She was a beautiful woman, but her poker face was something he could live without sometimes. She was a little _too _good at it, it bordered on eerie.

"What?" she asked after a moment when he didn't continue.

"Didn't lag too much behind this time," he smirked, "That's something, ain't it?"

"Hm," she said simply, nursing her own bottle that he'd added on to his tab. She wasn't drinking but she kept it anyway.

"You talk to your boss yet?" De Luca asked.

"Not yet," she said, "But he knows what happened."

"Well, that's nice," De Luca grumbled, "Should I expect to hear from Mr. Gardner then? He was so polite the last time he talked to one of our men."

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face, but he couldn't see, "I wouldn't know."

"It wasn't supposed to end this way," he muttered, "I could spend a century on this job, but this crap? It never gets old."

"That's good," she nodded, "Keeps you motivated."

"To take scumbags like Phelps down?" he snorted, "Yeah. Guess that's something."

"Yeah, guess so."

"Do you know why he did it?" he asked, after a moment. "Why he went after your boss?"

"Don't care."

He rolled his eyes, "Why am I not surprised?" He finally looked at her, turning his head sideways then scowled, "Do you have a word limit per day or something? Because you could try and talk more you know?"

"I could," she turned to face him as well, the corners of her lips curling up slightly.

"Now you're just playing me," he said though he grinned slightly, "What's up with that anyway? You run out of friends?"

She smirked, "Maybe."

"Wait, wait," De Luca waved his hand slightly, "Nah, not that. You just run out of toys to play with so you got me. Thanks for that by the way, K. After all the help I gave you."

"You're welcome."

De Luca snorted, grinning slightly, "Now you're just being a jerk."

He took a long drink, "Nice work on getting his car by the way…dare I ask if it was by legal means?"

She smirked, "Sure. Kid across the street saw it when he came."

"And how'd you manage that?" De Luca asked, "We canvassed that neighborhood, there was nothing about that kid."

"He was twelve, his mother didn't even know," she shrugged, "He thought the car was cool, it was vintage and expensive and he decided that's what he wanted for when he's old enough to drive. Took a picture with his phone."

"And he got the plates," the old detective raised his glass, "And you kicked our asses again. By a hair—we got him with his prints."

"Wasn't much of a competition," she said simply.

"Now you're really trying to piss me off," he teased, "What're you doing here anyway? Don't you have some ninja thing to do?"

"Not tonight," she shook her head.

"Good, same here," he tilted his head sideways.

His eyes drifted towards the mounted television in the corner. It was on mute, but he didn't need to hear the audio to know what was being reported. The clips they were showing were familiar, replaying the last three and a half days in an abridged version with various clips and background commentary. He wasn't surprised they were running this piece of news again, considering who was involved and what happened.

As the screen panned over to a body being carried out and covered in a white sheet, he also didn't need to be told who was underneath. It had begun and ended so suddenly, he could admit to himself he hadn't really predicted anything more would have happened when he'd first walked into the posh brownstone and immediately drew a conclusion he'd known was so wrong now.

But he wasn't the type of man who was ashamed to admit he was capable of being wrong. It didn't matter as long as justice was served and the real perpetrator had been captured, ridding the street of at least one scumbag because in his line of work, every win counted.

De Luca glanced at the woman next to him, tipping his bottle in her direction in a silent toast and simply said, "Good day, K."

She gave an imperceptible nod as she kept her eyes forward, "You too, Tony."

-o0o-

It was over.

And yet everything felt like it was only beginning, like he was stuck in an endless loop because every time he closed his eyes, his mind tended to take over and he was right back in that house once more. He would hear Sinatra crooning in his mind again and almost smell the familiar scent of lavender, wafting in the air, filling his senses only this time, things and his feelings were different.

He had smiled then, thinking of things to come, but now, after everything, he could not feel the elation he felt in those moments, could not feel the heady high of happiness that filled him at the time. Thinking about those things, remembering, only made him feel suffocated now and it made bile rise to his throat, choking him and making his heart constrict in the most painful way.

The dress on the bed came to his mind again, clear as day as if it was right in front of him again and he remembered how he'd thought it would no doubt look beautiful on her. He would have loved to see her in it and wouldn't have hesitated to tell her how she looked because he knew she would have taken his breath away.

Red had always suited her, it was her color and it wasn't just that that made the color special to him.

The color reminded him of the first time they met. She'd been wearing red that day, not quite as beautiful as the creation he hadn't seen her wear and more professional, but she'd been beautiful then too. She'd caught his attention instantly, not just by the way she spoke or acted, but because she had captured him so easily he hadn't been able to look away.

Not that he even wanted to, not then and not ever.

He stood by the doors of the empty room inside the Intensive Care Unit, leaning against the door frame not just for support but also because he truly felt tired. He hadn't rested since everything began, even when he'd wanted to. His body was demanding it, demanding to be allowed to shut down temporarily to let him regain his strength, but he couldn't, even when he truly wanted to. He was tired, so tired and if he could, he would have just curled up right on the spot and never wake again.

No matter what he did, every time he closed his eyes, everything would come back. It was like a bad movie, playing over and over in his mind, revisiting every detail his mind could reach for and piece together, replaying the moments as if it was happening all over again. It made his heart race, made his breath hitch and made him feel like he was about to get sick again.

He stared almost hauntingly at the empty bed, clutching his phone and nearly crushing it in his grip. His knees could give at any moment so he continued to lean, unable to find it in himself to move and get out of that place. Every part of him screamed to go, to leave and never look back, but he couldn't.

The call earlier had come, telling him everything was over and the more he had tried to regain control, the more he felt his body tremble and shake. It was as if he was going into shock, unable and maybe even unwilling to stop it from happening.

He felt dizzy, felt like he was wadding through a thick layer of molasses. Everything was in slow motion and as he stood there, he could not hear words spoken or even see the people around him perfectly. They had come to him, the kind nurses, asking him if he needed anything, if there was something they could do.

And they couldn't. There was nothing they could do for him in that moment and he'd thanked them, numbly without actually looking at anyone. He stood there for a few more moments, trying to gather his composure back together before pushing himself forward and standing with one hand braced against the door frame. His body was hunched slightly, his knuckle turning white from the harsh grip he was maintaining and bent his head, unable to look into the room again.

He slipped his phone back in his pocket, taking a deep breath before slowly turning around and walking away.

And as he went, Kurt McVeigh made sure never to look back.

-o0o-

"Can you believe it?"

Will shook his head, dangling a bottle of beer in one hand as he sat back against the cushioned seat that matched his couch. They'd just finished speaking with Patrick Schering who had walked out of his office a little dazed, confused and full of questions. There was no relief to be had, even though the case against him was no longer something they needed to worry about.

Alicia sat back on the couch, the beer he had served her sitting on the coffee table in front of them, untouched. She had her arms crossed over her chest, "Why do you think he did that…all of that?"

"We don't know," Will shook his head, "What we have were mostly just the basics. But we can confirm though that we know it was Steven that night with Alexis Tomlin and he was the one who attacked Diane."

"But why?" Alicia asked, looking at Will with a look of disbelief on her face, "I mean, he went through all that trouble…attacking Diane like that? It's unbelievable."

Will shook his head and drank, "Yeah."

"It's all over the news," Alicia said, "The police found him."

"They did," Will nodded, "But he resisted arrest and…well, you know the rest."

Alicia nodded slowly, "So that's it?"

"It's over," Will said, nodding. "If we want, we can have someone look into it, but to be honest? I don't think we should. The best thing right now is to just…move on."

"He could have just laid low," she said, shaking her head slightly. "The case against Patrick was slim at best. We could have easily gotten it kicked before anyone could have known about it."

"Steven Phelps had a history," Will said, easing into the conversation, "He was accused of assaulting a woman a few years ago. She couldn't remember much, except that it was a party and she was with him. He swore he didn't do it and the case got kicked eventually when they couldn't find sufficient evidence."

"Diane was his lawyer," Alicia filled in.

Will nodded, "She got that case from Stern. I remember, she didn't want it and they fought. Phelps was big money and Stern wanted his business, his connections."

"Diane got the case kicked," Alicia said. "Phelps walked away an innocent man."

"She was convinced he didn't do it, that the woman was just out for money. She and Phelps got along but we didn't get him as a client in the end anyway," he shook his head, "He went with another firm. Stern was pissed as hell."

"Was Diane angry about losing his business?"

"Not really," Will shook his head, "She didn't seem to care either way. I think that's why I just forgot about it. I mean, Stern and Diane got along, but sometimes they didn't too."

"So Phelps moves on, as does everyone and then Alexis happens," Alicia said, tilting her head to the side, "Same story, different man but one similar variable—Phelps—so he thinks he might get in trouble then decides he needs help so he tries to hire the last person who got him off the hook."

"But it's a conflict because Patrick went to me and I passed him off to Diane," Will said. "So she had to say no."

Alicia nodded, "Maybe he didn't like her turning him down…so he got mad. Lost control and attacked without thinking clearly."

Will nodded, taking a long drink from his bottle, "That's the best assumption."

"All that trouble, all the violence…and it ends in death," leaning forward to reach for her beer, her hand curled around the bottle and she took a long drink for herself as well, "So what happens now?"

They've never been hit quite so close to home.

He remained silent, his dark eyes looking ahead as he placed his feet on top of the table, placing his bottle on the arm of his chair, "Depends, what do you mean?"

"Where do we go from here?"

Will shrugged, turning to face Alicia with a tired look on his face, "We move on."


	6. Chapter Six

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific.**  
><strong>_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**SIX**

"You sound like you have a cold."

"And you sound like you have something on your mind."

"…did you see the papers today?"

"I think everyone has."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "It…I didn't like it. Seeing everything, seeing all those things displayed out in the open? It…it made me angry."

"Understandable," she nodded, "It's still fresh, you're raw. You've yet to truly begin to deal with anything and yet here it is, in black and white with the whole town reading about it. I understand how it might be upsetting."

He nodded, "It's…it's almost not fair."

"It isn't," she answered, "The media sensationalizes stories like this, especially this one…she was someone people knew a little through her family and/or her work. She was dedicated not only to her job, but causes, important causes and made efforts to help them and those efforts were not overlooked."

She paused, watching him closely, "It also helps that she wasn't one of those who seek the media to display her efforts. It was obvious she truly cared, but of course, even then they still sought her out anyway. She was dedicated and admired. It was expected that people would pay attention, especially after such a tragedy."

He shook his head, "And you'd think that would be reason enough to just…drop the whole thing. It's one thing to care, to give attention…but to exploit things like that? To-to trample everything for the sake of knowing? For curiosity?" He scowled, "It's disgusting."

She nodded, "If the world could see it from your point of view, they probably would have the decency to let it rest, but they won't. That's not how it works."

"I know," he nodded, "But it doesn't make it better…the phones were ringing," he shook his head, rubbing his knuckle as he sat back in the seat, "I pulled the lines off the hook. I couldn't take it…and I'm not even checking the computer. The damned internet and those stupid thrill-seeking idiots who keep digging and digging for anything and everything..."

"You feel violated, your privacy shattered. It's understandable you would be angry, you don't want the further intrusion into your life," she nodded, "It's to be expected that you would want to keep prying people out."

"And the more I try," he shrugged then shook his head slightly, "The more _we_ try…the harder it gets." He curled one hand on top of the other, rubbing a knuckle tensely, "Will called today. There were people who kept trying to contact the firm, calling and talking and…it's frustrating."

"They're trying to find some form of legal action?"

"Yeah, but nothing," he shook his head, "Can't fight the internet, at least not those little bastards who keep trying to find every little bit they can."

"The price we pay for progress."

He nodded, "It's crap…I keep trying to get back to normal, get back to just-just _living_, but this just makes it feel…god, it's just frustrating."

"You've been trying to move past this, which is a good decision," she nodded, "Having this be still piquing the interest of the public would indeed make anyone feel frustrated."

"Trying," his hand went to his mouth, rubbing, a sign that he had pent up frustration building which was practically a norm these days. "It feels impossible…moving on."

"Right now, yes, it does," she nodded, "As expected, which is why you came to me."

He nodded but didn't say anything, instead, looked at his knuckles.

"You're worried."

"…yes, I am."

"Why?"

"I think that's quite obvious."

"Tell me anyway."

He looked at her, taking in the calm look on her face that he'd grown used to, though not quickly. She was an old friend, someone he'd grown up with back home. She'd been one of the guys then, the girl with the ponytail and the mean right hook. She played baseball with the boys up until she went away to college but even then she played with them whenever she could come back for the summer.

She studied hard and left school with a degree in psychology. By the time they got together again, she was an established psychologist and building an impressive career with no signs of slowing down.

They'd kept in touch over the years and still play baseball and go to games whenever possible. Even now she still kept her hair in a ponytail although instead of the dark brown, she had dyed her hair blonde, which suited her better. She had called him up as soon as she had heard but he had barely said a word to her then.

Now, here they were in his fifth meet with her in the cream colored office with the light blue curtains, shelves of books and trinkets. He hadn't been comfortable at first, had even tried walking out the first time, but she gave him special treatment, something she only granted people she knew well enough.

And by special treatment it meant she was more forward and insistent, unafraid to push and prod him for answers not for herself, but for him. Avoidance was not allowed nor was passive-aggressiveness. He wasn't a man of many words, especially when it came to things they discussed and she only ever gave him a little leeway and rarely ever enabled that behavior before she ripped into him and went for the jugular.

During the first session, she'd given him a pleasant smile and sat back in her seat, an effort to make him comfortable. She made small talk, got him to reply more and it almost felt easy and painless. Then she talked about _the incident_ as he preferred to call it and before he knew, it he was standing up and heading towards the door before her voice stopped him.

_Did you come in here to say hello? To catch up? Or did you come here to talk about what you won't even let yourself think about when you're completely alone? Do you have nightmares, Kurt? Do you still remember things vividly? Do you wake up each night, strangled as the very memories choke you? You wouldn't let yourself remember, wouldn't you? Because you're afraid, of what you feel and maybe even what you might do._

She knew him well enough. She didn't know his innermost thoughts, but she knew how to delve into his mind and drag out things he would prefer not to talk about. She knew a lot, she was smart and she had instinct. She wanted to help him, always had, and he was letting her.

Not because he needed her, but because she'd been right about him.

"I think about killing him," he confessed after a moment, blinking a few times before shaking his head, as if that secret thought he had just shared with her was appearing in his mind's eye in that same moment. "I…get these homicidal thoughts, things I would want to do to him, what I would say…what I would put him through before I ended his pathetic life."

"Do you think about this often?"

"Sometimes," he shrugged, "But more than once is enough…I don't like it. I don't like seeing those things, especially at night. It bothers me…I'm not that kind of person."

"Of course," she nodded. "You're angry, that's understandable."

"I'm more than angry…I _want_ to kill."

"He hurt you, not directly, but he did," she said, "And more than that, he hurt _her_. What he did to her…it was unforgivable. Your feelings are warranted."

"Warranted," he scoffed slightly, "As if I need permission to feel this way."

"You don't, but a part of you feels like you do," she tilted her head to the side, "You're angrier than the last time we met."

"Damn right I'm angrier," he said suddenly, his voice growing harsh for a moment but he stopped, glancing at her, as if waiting to be scolded but she only gave him a neutral look so he went on. "I'm…I'm angry about so many things and I don't think I'll ever stop being angry at him, that bastard." His hands balled into tight fists in front of him, his knuckles growing white and his jaw clenching, "What he did to her…what he put her through."

He looked down on the floor, "I don't hate, at least, I try not to, but him? I think about killing him, wrapping my hands around his throat and just squeezing until his eyes pop and his heart stops."

"You want revenge."

"I won't lie," he shook his head, "I do."

"You're not just angry at him," she looked at him closely, "Are you angry at her?"

"No," his head shot up, his eyes wide as he looked at her, surprised. "I…god, how could I be angry at _her_? It wasn't her fault. She-she…how could she have known? She didn't ask for it, for anything. She _fought_."

"You're angry at yourself."

"It's my fault…" his voice took on a more somber tone as he stared at the floor, not quite seeing anything and getting lost in the things only he could see in his own mind, "…I'm angry at myself. I should have been there or-or, I don't know, I should have gotten there earlier. Maybe…maybe it would have been different."

"You blame yourself for what happened."

"I should have protected her," he muttered, more to himself than the other person in the room. "I should have."

"You couldn't have," she said, "You weren't there."

"And I should have been," he said, his voice straining a little. "I should have arrived earlier then maybe-maybe things…"

"You'll lose yourself in the endless maybes you think about," she cautioned, "But you came Kurt, that was enough and you did everything you could."

"It's not _enough_," he said harshly, "If it was…I should have been there. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's how protect people, protect those I love."

"You protected her when you could," she said, "That was enough. You can't keep thinking about what could have been, what you could have done differently. You'll ruin yourself, if you keep thinking this way."

"It's not something I can just stop," he said, "The thoughts…they're there and everyday I'm reminded by just…"

"You can't let him win and if you let this consume you, he does."

"I know that," he shook his head.

"Then stop wallowing," she answered, "It's one thing to _know_, it's another to _do_."

He sat back again, running a hand through his hair and slowly bent his head down, "I haven't been sleeping."

"Why? Have the dreams been bothering you?" she asked when he finally looked at her, looking tired and indeed sleep deprived. "Have they been keeping you up?"

He rubbed his hands together, leaning forward in his seat and placing his elbows on his knees, "They're more nightmares than dreams…some are memories, some things my mind filled in between."

"The mind can be amazing like that," she nodded, "It can be both a gift and a curse."

"It's a curse here," he closed his eyes and bent his head, "I don't want to-to see those things…it's hell, reliving everything like that."

"If you had the chance…"

"I don't know," he shrugged then slowly nodded, "Lock me in a room with him, the chances are big that I wouldn't be able to control myself. He ruined everything."

"Not everything," she said, shaking her head slightly, "It's over."

"For him," he looked at her, "For me? For us…? It never ends."

"It only feels like that now."

"You don't know that," he said, his eyes flashing slightly, "You…you don't know this, how it feels. Especially now." He looked at his hands again, "I think about snapping his neck…how easy it would be...how it would have made me feel if I actually did it."

"How do you think you'd feel?" she asked, slowly. "If you killed him?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, "You can't kill someone who's already dead."

"Humor me."

His eyes met hers and they had that all too familiar dulled light in them that was unlike the boy she'd grown up with. He looked haunted and this was proof of just how deeply the whole event had affected him, how it was still affecting him.

"Kurt?" she said, gentler. "How do you think you'd feel if you killed him?"

He took a deep breath then released it slowly along with the answer that left his lips in a sigh, "Relieved."


	7. Epilogue

**Crimson Kiss  
><strong>by: raileht  
><strong><br>****Summary:** A descent into madness leaves more questions and little answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T, to be safe

**Spoilers/Timeline:** nothing specific.**  
><strong>_**Warning**_**: Disturbing themes. **Violence, blood and graphic details. Possible character death.

**Note: **Just something I dreamt about. I make no promises.

-o0oo0oo0o-

**EPILOGUE**

"_**Nothing is permanent in this wicked world—not even our troubles."  
>-Charlie Chaplin<br>**_

**One Year Later**

The sun was up and shining brightly that morning.

He stood by the doors, staring at the empty hallway, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his jeans. The house was empty and everything had been taken away, leaving behind an empty place that was once a home.

The walls were bare, the tables, chairs and other pieces of furniture gone. The wooden floors were bare, lacking the elegant carpeting that had once been laid on them before. With the sun up high, the living room, once a spacious area filled with things that made the place seem warm and inviting, was now bathed in nothing but the sunlight as it filtered easily through the large bare windows.

He looked around, breathing easier as he tried to remember the place as it once was, seeing what used to be before everything had been taken away. This place used to be home to someone strong, beautiful and intelligent and it had reflected her wholly. It was a home that had fit her perfectly, every piece chosen to reveal the many sides of her being, her myriad of moods and quirks, her personality.

The second and third floors of the house were empty as well, the piano gone, the art taken down and packed away and the belongings stored into boxes, carefully and lovingly, preserving them and treating them as the owner would.

It had been a home, but now it was just a house, empty and void of feeling, a shell of something that was grand, elegant and warm, just like the soul that had inhabited it for so long, up until the time it ceased being a safe haven.

The good had been taken away, the beauty and the pieces that made the home for what it was, but the bad stayed. There were no marks, not telling flaws and no indication that anything had ever happened there, but to him, it was still there.

Memories filled the place, he could remember them, clearly and vividly, the good ones, where they had laughed, loved and reveled in each other, but the bad ones were also there. He still had dreams, still woke up sweating and out of breath, his heart pounding and threatening to give and even though those wouldn't be completely stopped by removing the very place where it all began, it helped anyway.

It helped them and gave a sense that they were indeed trying to leave it all behind where it belonged—in the past.

And at the moment, that was enough. He would take what he can get, if only to help heal the wounds that no medicine or hospital could help with. His heart, mind and soul were scarred and he would forever carry the memories, the good and the bad, with him wherever life took him, but he would learn to heal and he would try harder each day.

It was time to move on.

Nothing would ever change or erase what happened, what had taken place, but he could take himself away from the very place that haunted him, the very place where the night filled with dreams would sometimes take him back to. He would remove himself, extricate himself from where the sounds of his own screams that night seemed to still echo from time to time.

He would lose his mind if he stayed and he couldn't have that, not when life itself awaited him and there was still so much else left to do. Time had not run out yet, time was still very much there and he couldn't let it slip anymore. Life was for the living and it was meant to be lived and he was ready to do that.

It was time to leave it all behind and move forward, to live, to laugh, to love and he couldn't do that when the past still clung on to his life, holding him down like a heavy rusted anchor that he never really needed.

His eyes drifted close and he took a deep breath, finding that he was beginning to smile a little and he breathed in, deeply, filling his lungs with air, thankful for being able to truly breathe in a way that he hadn't been able to do for a long time.

Yes, this was something that had to be done.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the place for what it was, a large, empty house that could be made into something beautiful again. A place for someone else to start a life in, hopefully a happy one where the place would be filled with all good memories of laughter and love and just living—and nothing of the darkness that had so clumsily cast a shadow over the place that was once a true home. He wished them, whoever they were, the best.

It was just a house now, nothing more.

And it was time to say goodbye.

His eyes scanned the place once more, the smile on his face remaining before he finally pulled himself away, turning his back on the empty halls and the empty rooms. He didn't hesitate when he slipped through the second door, stepping out into the sun, the warmth falling on his skin and on his face. It was bright and beautiful, perfect for a new beginning, perfect to restart a life worth living.

"Kurt?"

He looked down from where he stood at the top of the steps, "Yeah?"

"Are you finished?"

He looked behind him, reaching for the elegant doors and pulled it closed, listening to the lock slip in place. It almost echoed in his mind and he found himself savoring it, smiling to himself. It sounded like goodbye, a different kind, one that felt truly final and beckoned for the beginning like a siren call.

Facing the world once more, he took the few steps down, his footfalls light and almost lingering with a skip and he reached the bottom in no time with that smile on his face.

Without a word, he reached for his companion's hand, threading their fingers together and smiled just a little bit bigger.

A warm hand fell onto his cheek in a gentle touch, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he grinned, "You?"

"Never better," the sun reflected on her blonde hair, making it almost glow and appear like spun gold.

His hand reached for her other hand, turning it gently so the wrist showed and he bent his head down, placing a warm kiss there and lingered as his eyes drifted close. No words were spoken and that was enough, as if the kiss said everything he needed to say.

"I love you."

But he'd learned his lesson before and now, whatever he needed to say, he said it.

"I love you too," and he wasn't the only one.

Lessons had been learned and they would be remembered for a long, long time.

"You ready?"

He nodded, smiling more, "Yeah."

"Then let's get out of here, cowboy," she smiled, "I hear first fights in a new place usually starts with closet space."

"You can have all the closet space you want," he grinned, "I'll keep my stuff in the boxes."

"Such a gentleman," she cooed as she ran a hand through his hair playfully. "Now why would you want to go and do something like that?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I just don't wanna fight."

"Then tough," she smiled as his hands slipped around her waist, "I like fighting. Don't you like the making up that follows…?"

"Well, if you put it that way…"

"I am," she purred with a wicked grin, rubbing his shoulders gently.

He chuckled, pulling her close and placing a kiss into her hair, breathing in deeply and let his breath come out in a gentle sigh as he spoke once again, "I love you, Diane."

She smiled as her eyes drifted closed as well, allowing him to pull her closer and she let him hold her for as long as he wanted to.

He wasn't the only one who'd learned a few lessons through the whole ordeal. It had taken her nearly dying and being brought back to life to get things in perspective not just for him, but for her as well. It was not the best of of ways to learn, but they did anyway and that was one of the few good things they could take away from the whole sorry tale.

Through recovery, the mess that was nothing short of a carnage that was left behind not just in the physical sense, but the emotional and psychological as well, they had learned and held on. He'd been there when she had woken up, disoriented, confused and afraid and hadn't left since then. They were still plagued by bad dreams, nightmares that came in the night when they slept, but they helped each other through.

As long as they were together, they were sure they could make it through, whatever else may come.

Diane let him hold her whenever he wanted to now, let him tell her he loved her and never missed a chance to let him know as well. They spent more time together, took more chances in making memories and making up for lost time. She'd gotten her own wake up call and she had listened, _truly _listened.

She smiled softly, "I love you too, Kurt."

He couldn't help but smile and hold her just a little bit tighter and decided no sweeter words could have ever been said.


End file.
